Remorse
by punkhermione
Summary: PostDH AU. Fem!Voldemort rules over Wizarding Britain, though all her horcruxes are destroyed. So when Hermione is captured, she swears there is a way to create more - and she can only help if Voldemort doesn't kill her. But is the shaky truce enough to keep Hermione alive, or will it land her in more trouble than she bargained for?
1. Chapter 1

Post-DH AU: Four months ago, all of Voldemort's horcruxes were destroyed, but Harry was seriously injured in the battle after his 'death' in the Forest. He escaped from the Battle of Hogwarts alive, but now Voldemort's control over Wizarding Britain goes largely unchallenged. The only exception is the Order of the Phoenix, who continue to rebel as best they can, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny hide out in the English countryside, helping Harry recuperate and planning their next move.

Fem!Voldemort.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

The stormclouds continued to gather over Diagon Alley. As Voldemort walked, her slim, pale fingers wound around a bone-white wand. The street was silent. It was after dusk, and tonight, only a pair of muddy rats outside of Ollivander's dared to defy the curfew. Her wand flicked, and the wind blew the rodents upward and in front of her, until they were floating above her open palm. She eyed them curiously. There was always a chance with animals that they were Animagi, but her luck failed tonight. The Lady Voldemort exhaled, and the rats squeaked fearfully as their whiskers frosted over. She laughed soundlessly and closed her hand into a fist. The cracking of their spines was audible.

"Naga," she called softly.

The rats fell to the cobblestones, their noses still twitching. A young boa, its skin an unusual silver, slithered out from under her cloak. Its hiss of pleasure made Voldemort smile almost warmly. She continued to walk, leaving her pet to its feast.

The normally bright yellow shop windows were dark, the only light coming from the greenish flames of the streetlamps. The flats above the shops were equally darkened, curtains shut tight or windows charmed black. There was no sign of life, but the Dark witch prowling the road knew better.

She stopped before the steps of Gringotts and breathed in the cold city air. She raised her arms on either side of her and closed her eyes. Now was the witching hour, when her powers were strongest. It was time to test a new spell.

She breathed out, and a warm crackling of magic flickered out from her centre and along her arms, extending outward from her fingers in pale blue tendrils. Then they vanished from sight, and blasted outwards, flying through the air and brick walls, into bedrooms and crawl spaces, hungrily seeking out human heat. Voldemort grimaced in concentration as her magic flew further and further still, sneaking across every body in Diagon Alley. Perhaps they do not meet tonight, she thought doubtfully. Perhaps her spies had been wrong...

And then she felt it.

Warmth radiating from the basement of a flat on the outskirts of town, near the border of Muggle London. Two, four, ten bodies, leaching heat like a bright red target. She laughed, loudly this time, and the magic retreated instantly in her wand.

"Naga."

The boa returned to its hiding place, and she Disapparated.

* * *

Kingsley slammed his fist on the table, and the room fell silent. "Enough! Molly, the children are of age. If you wish to discourage them from this, you may do so outside these meetings. But here, we have no time to waste."

The remnants of the Order of the Phoenix were gathered in one of the last true safe houses, in the flat of John Dawlish. The Auror, like many others, had long been a quiet supporter of Dumbledore's, but the defeat at the Battle of Hogwarts had convinced him of his loyalties. Still hesitant to participate fully in the Order's activities, he stood watch upstairs while the group met in the hidden room below the kitchen. There were ten of them present tonight. Molly and Arthur, who stayed with Percy, Bill, and Fleur at Shell Cottage. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who prowled the streets of London in disguise, gauging Death Eater movement and potential rebels. Minerva McGonagall, who had moved to the Northern coast of France with her nephews' families, harbouring a dozen of the youngest Muggle-born students from Hogwarts; she had returned to find as many first-year Muggle-borns as she could, to take them back with her. Neville and Luna, who together had led a group of older Muggle-born students all the way to Germany, had come back like McGonagall to seek out any more that needed help. Since Neville had been deafened in the battle, Luna's hand were frequently signing words to him while the others spoke. Hermione and Ginny were the only ones of the group who were fully in hiding. Harry had nearly died at the Battle of Hogwarts, and had lost the use of one of his legs. Together with Ron, they worked to help Harry recuperate and planned their next move. Tonight, Harry had run a fever from another infection to his slowly healing wounds, so the boys had stayed in their hideout, with Ron watching over Harry. All of them were scarred, but all of them had managed extraordinarily well in the last few months.

So it was not without reason that no one had agreed with Molly's protests when Kingsley suggested a blitz attack on Voldemort's troops, and none of the youngest Order members hesitated to volunteer.

Molly fumed, but stayed quiet. Arthur squeezed her shoulder gently. "Perhaps it's best to move on to the second point of order," he said calmly.

"That would be us."

Ginny and Hermione stepped forward, looking grim. "This is an idea that we've discussed briefly with Kinglsey," said Hermione, nodding at the tall wizard next to them. "But it would be a plan we keep between those of us here tonight exclusively."

"Harry and Ron are the exception to this," said Ginny. "Their vote is split one in favour and one against."

"So what is this plan?" asked Angelina.

"Capture," Ginny answered. "One of us surrenders to get on the inside of You-Know-Who's circle."

Protests erupted all around them. Hermione inched closer to Ginny, and discreetly took her hand.

"We aren't asking any of you," continued Ginny bravely, raising her voice above the din. "I would do it."

George shook his head, worry in his eyes. "Gin, no."

Molly's cheeks were angry blotches of red. "ABSOLUTELY NOT -"

"Molly -"

"That is pure recklessness," McGonagall interjected.

"- OVER MY DEAD BODY -"

"Quiet!" Kingley called fiercely, and the room calmed. "There is much to discuss. Miss Weasley and Miss Granger have already detailed a few points of their plan to me, and I would like you all to hear it before we call a vote."

"It would happen in two weeks," said Hermione, looking around the room. "I'll be back with Harry and Ron, but as Ginny said earlier, she will be part of the blitz Kingsley's just told you about, on the Lestrange estate. It gives us enough time to iron out the details, but it's soon enough that Ginny won't have any knowledge of where Harry is, or of any future Order attacks. She'll be the most wanted rebel there, high priority enough that she can take the place of anyone who gets in trouble."

"Forgive me, Miss Granger," said McGonagall gently, "but that may not be enough to guarantee her life once she's captured."

"You-Know-Who knows the rumours about me and Harry," said Ginny quietly. "Draco - well, any of the Slytherins could have told him that much. I'd be a valuable playing piece."

"Because of her age," added Kingsley, "and because she'll be cooperative, she has a good chance -"

"Hush!" said Angelina suddenly.

Everyone froze. After several moments in silence, Kingsley frowned.

"It could just be Dawlish keeping guard," Arthur whispered.

The other man nodded. He drew a small mirror from his coat and tapped it with his wand. The glass grew foggy until his face was completely obscured. "Dawlish," he whispered urgently. "How's your end?"

For a painful minute, there was no sound. Then a loud snore startled them all, making a few people jump. Arthur laughed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I can relate to that," he said, smiling. "We're far too tense down here. Let's make some tea and stretch our legs before we vote, shall we? Then we'll have time to get a few hours of shut-eye."

"I'm on board," said George brightly, but his face was just as drawn as the others' were. One by one, they filed up the stairs. Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand before she followed.

"What do you think they'll decide?"

Hermione sighed. "Honestly, Ginny, you'd have a better chance of convincing them to become Death Eaters."

"But you still think it's a good idea?"

"Gin, you know I never have -"

"But it's the best idea we've got!"

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "I know," she said quietly. "But I...I understand Molly, you know?"

Ginny bit her lip and breached the distance between them. Their foreheads rested gently against each other. "I know you won't let me go until you've figured out eighteen ways this can go wrong, and thirty-six back-up plans at least."

Hermione smiled. "You've got an awful lot of faith in me."

"Nah. Reckon I just know you too well."

A sudden crash upstairs interrupted them. Then the yelling began. Their eyes widened.

Ginny cursed under her breath and they ran up the steps.

A bolt of red flew past them as they emerged. Hermione ducked, stumbling directly into a Death Eater, who snarled and raised his wand.

"_STUPEFY_!" Arthur shouted, and the Death Eater toppled against the table.

There were eight of them clad in black and still standing, shadows from the candlelight flickering over their skull-like masks as they duelled. Kingsley was backed into a corner parrying the spells of two of them, while George and Angelina fought a tall man who jeered as he sent curses their way. McGonagall was surrounded by three Death Eaters, nimbly sparring them alone. Molly had freed Dawlish and they took on the Death Eaters who blocked the doorway.

"Ginny, Hermione, get out of here!" Arthur yelled, ducking a jet of green light that blasted into the fireplace, narrowly missing his head.

"The hell we will," said Ginny fiercely. She held on tightly to Hermione's hand. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Hermione quietly, drawing her wand.

They ran to McGonagall's side and aimed at the Death Eater on her left, sending him flying out the window with a pained cry.

They fought quickly, urgently, knowing they only had to dispatch enough to escape, but desperate to leave before any reinforcements arrived.

They weren't fast enough.

The reinforcements came swarming through the door; a half-dozen Death Eaters taking the places of those who had fallen.

"RETREAT!" Kingsley bellowed, now fighting back-to-back with McGonagall. "GO, NOW!"

Angelina grabbed ahold of George and Disapparated, as Dawlish managed to set his opponent on fire and Disapparated in turn. McGonagall wavered as a spell hit her chest, and Kingsley clasped her hand, vanishing with her.

A loud _BANG_ rang against Hermione's ears as she ducked a curse and spotted Ginny and her parents. Duelling five Death Eaters at once, they were slowly being backed against the bare brick wall of the sitting room. Ginny defended against her attackers with fury and strength, but the gap between her and her parents was growing wider. _Disarm, stun, curse if you need to_, Hermione thought, gritting her teeth as she blocked another spell and hurried towards them. _Not necessarily in that order_.

Then one of Ginny's opponents stepped back, a nasty snarl on his face, and her fist tightened around her wand, fear and dread roiling in her chest.

He aimed at Ginny. "_Avada -"_

He never had the chance to complete his curse. A rage Hermione had never felt before propelled her forward, and with the trained focus of an efficient Charms student, she rounded her wrist and made a swift but powerful arc through the air. "_REDUCTO_!"

The ceiling above the Death Eaters fissured and collapsed. Wood, cement, and piping came crashing down onto them, showering the room in plaster and dust.

Hermione raced to Ginny's side. "All right?"

"Thanks," said Ginny breathlessly, shaking her head. "Christ, Hermione, could've warned me -"

"MOVE!" Arthur yelled suddenly.

"_FIENDFERIO_!" a Death Eater roared. The blast of fire erupted from his wand, illuminating the dust around it like sparks as it surged forward.

They only had a split second to glance at the jet of Fiendfyre headed directly at them. Ginny turned, but before she could react, Hermione had pulled her with stumbling legs. "MOLLY!" Hermione shouted. Then she shoved the youngest Weasley toward her mother with all her might.

Molly reached for Ginny's arm, and the next moment, Hermione's world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings: physical abuse, some language.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

When her mind returned, she remembered.

_Harry. HARRY. HARRY -_

_Broken spectacles, the first time they met, and Ron's grip around her arm tightening desperately, painfully, Ron making a sound, so quiet, so broken, so soon after losing George, now this, not this, not real - _

_Ginny, GINNY, WHERE IS SHE -_

_Harry's voice, her confusion, her relief - the invisibility cloak, of course, you reckless brave brilliant IDIOT. Harry, when all this is over I'm going to bloody kill you but now I'm too happy you're alive -_

_The crash, Harry's cry by her side, the blood pooling around them and his face, his voice in agony, blood staining her wand but she couldn't be sure it was his, couldn't be sure it hadn't been there before -_

_Fix him FIX HIM stop the bleeding. Ice. Compress. Elevate. He's too pale he's lost too much blood HARRY JAMES POTTER YOU STAY AWAKE, WE ARE NOT LOSING YOU AGAIN. Ron, we have to go we have to go NOW -_

_WHERE IS SHE -_

_Oh, god, that face on the ground is so young. When did we stop being children?_

_Ron's knuckles going white, gripping Harry's hand while Hermione and Ginny worked, each in their ways - Hermione feverishly determined, Ginny tight-lipped but shaking slightly from the effort - Harry's wounds refusing to heal, at first, then slowly, but painfully -_

_Her hands on his as she asks, gently, "Are you afraid?" and he answers, tearful, angry, Harry, her Harry, afraid by the loss of his leg, afraid that his friends - all that is left of his family - may be caught, afraid that Voldemort is still in his head while he sleeps, even though he knows that the last horcrux was destroyed by its maker's own killing curse -_

_The rebel radio station back on the air, but Fred's voice is only static between Lee Jordan's words, and sometimes when Lee pauses you can hear the silence, the loss of two brothers to death and grief, and it breaks Hermione's heart to listen to it so she starts going for walks when the others turn the radio on, wandering the Forest of Dean like she used to with her parents, her parents dead or alive and thousands of miles away - _

_Seamus and Dean voicing a rallying cry on air, then Neville and Luna calling all Muggle-borns to protect each other, sending them a single message over and over: to hope, and to escape - _

_Kingsley's name ringing through the campsite after they hear his voice on the radio, Ron shouting it in a mixture of relief, surprise, admiration. Ginny finding Hermione later than night and hatching a plan to meet him. Messages encoded and sent by a multitude of Patronuses, because the group's happiness is much harder to muster these days, and Harry is too exhausted to try - _

_Meeting with Kingsley and the others, slowly growing the number of their secret group, the Order of the Phoenix rising as it should, from ash - _

_**GET OUT** -_

_ambush -_

_**NO** -_

_GINNY IS SAFE -_

_**GET OUT OF MY HEAD** -_

_GINNY!_

* * *

She woke up screaming.

"Shut up," a voice next to her barked, and the hard point of a boot connected swiftly with her stomach, leaving her gasping for air.

A second voice, smooth like the edge of a knife, spoke her attacker's name like a cold warning. "Lucius."

Hermione backed herself against the wall, breathing harshly. She was on a cool stone floor, facing the shoes of Lucius Malfoy. He gave her a disgusted look as he stepped back.

The Lady Voldemort took his place. She was taller than Malfoy by several inches, with smooth waves of thick dark hair cropped short. Her pale skin was a shade closer to grey than white, but it almost glowed in the darkness here. Her dark eyes studied Hermione intently, and the young witch could almost see the reddish gleam everyone spoke of. Voldemort smiled with thin, dark lips.

"Pity such a clever mind is so easily fooled by expectations."

Her voice was clear and cool, like a stream flowing in winter before the frost.

Taken aback by the sound, Hermione shivered despite herself. "What do you mean?"

Voldemort's smile widened. "Red eyes. I'm afraid you've been taken in by legends of me."

Hermione frowned. True, the woman before her was...different from what she'd imagined. Softer. More beautiful. Strangely...alluring.

She shook her head, struggling to clear her thoughts. Her head pounded stubbornly as she stood, taking in her surroundings. "Where am I?" Grey light filtered through a window opposite her, and the walls were made of sand-coloured stone.

"None of your concern," Malfoy snapped. "You won't be here long anyway."

Hermione's eyes flickered past him and Voldemort, and she saw the door. Dark wood, with rusted hinges and no handle.

The glance lasted only a moment, but Voldemort caught it. "Look at me," she commanded, and gritting her teeth Hermione shifted her gaze to the window instead.

Voldemort gave a small sigh. "_Imperio._"

A heaviness descended upon Hermione's mind.

"Now, Hermione," she said softly, "I want you to think about Harry for just a moment. _Legilimens._"

Hermione's frown deepened. The voice that spoke to her was so pleasant. She felt strangely lethargic, her thoughts hazy. _No...Can't tell her_... What had happened to Harry? Oh, God, where was Harry...His leg had been infected - Ron had stayed behind..._Behind from what?_ _Focus_, a voice said gently. _Harry...the Forest of Dean_..._By the creek_, Hermione finished for the voice. _In the grove that_...why did her head hurt so much? It was so painful to think, the forefront of her mind suddenly crowded with images of Harry and Ron and Ginny, while a voice at the back of her mind shouted words she could not quite discern...but here, this voice was so lovely..._Harry is in danger, Hermione...Find him. Where in the Forest is he hiding?_

Then the burst of pain at the back of her head made her eyes open wide, and she stared into Voldemort's gleaming dark eyes.

"The hell I'm telling you."

Immediately the sweet voice changed into a snarl. "Tell me where Potter is, or Ginny Weasley dies."

But Hermione was alert, now. "You can't threaten me while you don't have her."

"Not yet."

_"PROTEG-"_

"Ah, ah. No wandless magic while I can stop the very thought of it. I leave when I am finished. And we are not finished, you and I. Not in the least."

_Fuck you_, Hermione thought venomously, letting her anger cloud her mind as she rearranged her thoughts._ This is what you get from me._

And without warning, she let her memories of the horcruxes fill her brain. Pieces of Voldemort's soul screaming as they died, the objects tossed aside, broken, discarded with no more regard. All of the Dark witch's efforts broken by teenagers. All of her hatred, the murder, the magic, made worthless in a matter of minutes.

She could feel Voldemort's rage building, but her attention was locked on Hermione's memories. Hermione took her chance.

"_PROTEGO_!"

A sharp pain like a knife, slicing through her brain - then Voldemort recoiled, her dark eyes staring down at Hermione with fury. Hermione glared back, relishing her triumph.

"_Crucio_."

The pain was absolute. Every muscle, every joint and bone, every cell on fire, stabbed deeply with twisting knives, stung by poison running through every pain. Then her head hit the floor and her world went black.

* * *

She lost count of the times Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy shook her awake, casting _legilimens _until her mind faltered. She resisted every mention of Harry and Ron, and couldn't give a single word for their next location; that had been part of the plan, after all, for Harry to be the sole person who would know where they travelled next and not reveal it until it was time to leave, so Ginny could be captured without endangering them. In the end, all it took was one last, defiant thought of Ginny, safe with her family Shell Cottage. The Weasley refuge now had two new Secret-Keepers.

They left her, sobbing as she struggled to her feet, frantically kicking and tearing at her door, then prying at the hinges in vain. There was no furniture in the room, and when her fist connected with the window, the only crack came from her stinging knuckles. She searched the walls for loose stones, a nail, anything, but came up empty. So she walked around the room in circles, her brain furiously working at the plan they had for Ginny all along,

After what felt like hours, the lock of her door clicked, and two towering figures in skull-like masks came to fetch her. Reluctantly, Hermione stopped her pacing and met their stares, refusing to let the trembling in her hands betray her. She focused on their strange robes instead. Green and silver armour winked beneath black cloaks, but it looked no harder than their eyes, she thought, disappointed. She would get no sympathy from these two. Then again, she wasn't sure why she still expected it.

"Your presence is requested."

So it was time for her execution. Hermione leaned against the wall, trying to keep from trembling as she steadied herself. "Does that mean I can refuse?"

"Move," the man said impatiently, grabbing her arm. She shrunk back, but he took hold of her anyway. He shoved her forward with such force that she stumbled into the second Death Eater, who looked down at her with distaste before pushing her aside.

"Walk," she snapped, her wandtip pressing hard against Hermione's skull. "Or we'll make you."

* * *

It took a few minutes before Hermione recognized the man's voice. She had first heard it years ago, in the Department of Mysteries, and again in the Battle of Hogwarts; it had a curious quality, an almost metallic rasp, and it belonged to a Death Eater named Avery. The woman, whom Hermione eventually heard Avery address as Bane, walked ahead of her. The corridor was as decrepit as her room had been, until they reached a heavy door hewn from oak and lined with dark iron. Bane rapped the wood sharply three times. There was a long silence, and Avery fidgeted nervously with his wand. Hermione eyed it closely, but Avery caught her gaze.

"Crafty little mudrat, they said you were," he sneered. "But even with a wand, you can't disapparate out of here, can't even move from one wing to another without passing a guardian." He dangled the wand in front of her, leering. "And if you even tried to touch it, I'd have to burn off every single one of your filthy, thieving mudblood fingers off."

She glared at him, but before she could retort with a string of unladylike curses Ginny would be proud of, the floor rumbled beneath her feet, startling her. With a rusty whine, the massive door swung inward on its aged hinges.

A woman sat against the wall opposite the doorway, upon a chair far too small for her girth. Heavyset with wide shoulders and skin the colour of red ochre, her small hooded eyes shifted over the Death Eaters indifferently before falling upon Hermione with piercing intensity. Her brow furrowed.

"Took you bloody long enough, didn't it? Aren't you going to make the call?" said Bane irritably as the door groaned to a close behind them.

The guard glared back at the Death Eater without reply.

With a huff, Bane drew something from her sleeve. Hermione strained to look as discreetly as she could. Whatever it was remained mostly hidden by the Death Eater's black gloves, but it glinted in the sunset. Bane tapped it impatiently with her wand.

"Bane and Avery. The North Wing is sealed. We have the girl."

With a start, Hermione noticed Bane's voice echo a moment later directly beside her, from inside Avery's sleeve. He brushed it with his hand, but only, it seemed, as a reflex, for he didn't take the shining thing out from its hiding place.

He noticed her staring and snorted with disgust. "Move," he spat, shoving her forward again, and Bane began to lead once more. As she hurried to follow, Hermione locked eyes with the silent guard. There was something in her intent gaze that Hermione couldn't quite read, but with a noise of impatience Avery pushed her again, and she was forced to turn away before she could know exactly what it was.

Now the corridors were wider, the grey stone more polished and bright, lined with floating lamps above their heads and smooth marble underfoot. On their right, tall narrow windows showed long shadows reaching down a rocky green hillside. Hermione thought she glimpsed a river and a line of trees, but Avery shoved her roughly away from the windows and they walked on.

Hallway after hallway they hurried onwards, Hermione shifting her attention from the windows on her right to the doors and passageways on her left. Within a few minutes, the windows were replaced by stone walls once more, and raised voices began echoing off them.

Suddenly they were standing in a wide hall, looking onto a mass of Death Eaters raucously conversing and arguing amongst themselves. Swiftly their gazes found the newest prisoner, and the loud noises were replaced by low whispers and sounds of disgust.

"If it isn't Miss Goody Two-Shoes, finally taken down a peg," someone sneered as Hermione passed, and she glimpsed the face of Marcus Flint, his grimy teeth bared in a horrible smile.

"Looks good, seeing you in your rightful place!" another shouted.

"Good enough to eat," someone else replied, and snickers and jeers erupted around them.

"Nah, raw Mudblood meat is always tough," a woman crowed.

"You can taste the fear."

"Pity you didn't manage to roast her, Rodolphus."

"Shut up and get ready," a deep voice growled, and the jeering quickly died. Rodolphus Lestrange stepped in front of Hermione and her escorts, blocking their way. He gave Hermione little notice, addressing her captors. "Go and prepare with the others. I will take it to her."

Avery obeyed immediately, but Bane hesitated. "My Lady said..."

"Nothing to you," Rodolphus snapped coldly. "You received your orders from me, and you have taken too long already. She will be displeased if she sees you this late. Now you will do as you are told and go."

Bane didn't move. "The Gorgon wasn't doing her job again. It took ten minutes just to convince her to let us in. You know we have to ask her six times to do any one thing -"

"Your complaint is noted," Rodolphus interrupted sarcastically.

The Death Eater before him spun on her heel, furious.

Suddenly, an invisible force wound around Hermione's arms and chest, leaving her gasping for air. A black cloth tightened over her eyes, and hot breath rasped into her ear. "I remember how you humiliated my wife at Malfoy Manor, you stupid girl. I will relish killing you tonight," Rodolphus hissed. Without warning, she was yanked forward as if by a chain, her feet stumbling forward, chasing at her future murderer's heels.

* * *

The sounds of the crowd had barely faded, replaced by the echoes of Rodolphus Lestrange's heavy steps and Hermione's shallow breathing, when the clang of a knocker interrupted her thoughts. A short silence followed. Then metal winced against metal as a door opened.

The very next second, Hermione's knees slammed into a cold hard floor. She groaned despite herself.

"Keep your emotions in check, Rodolphus," said Voldemort silkily, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Of course, my Lady."

"What took so long?"

Hermione heard Rodolphus shifting uncomfortably beside her. "Bane and Avery had difficulty entreating the Gorgon to, ah, act."

"The Gorgon will do as commanded by anyone who shows her the proper respect," said Voldemort, the tone of amusement still plain to hear. "Bane and Avery's failures remain your responsibility."

"Yes, my Lady."

"I will not tolerate a weak link, Rodolphus," said Voldemort softly.

"...I understand, my Lady."

Silence followed.

Finally, she sighed. "Later. I expect it dealt with after tonight. For now, join the others. Tell Dolohov and Bella we leave at my word."

His steps moved away from Hermione, and the door closed, locking itself with the same metal grind as before.

"Pitiful," Voldemort muttered.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't her the word was directed at.

Glass chinked against glass, and she could hear liquid pouring into a cup.

"Aren't you going to try to stand? Look defiant?" Voldemort drawled.

"Can't really move," Hermione managed, still short of breath.

A quiet laugh followed her words. "I see. Finite incantatem."

The blindfold dissolved and the force wrapped around her vanished. She gasped, wavering until she caught herself by leaning her hands on the chilled floor of black marble.

"I should keep you like this," Voldemort mused, swirling blood-red wine in her glass. "Bowing before me on all fours, desperate and struggling to breathe."

Hermione swallowed and rose unsteadily to her feet. "I would never bow," she said, sounding braver than she felt. "I will not be a slave or a plaything."

Voldemort smiled widely. "If I was going to play with you, you would be begging for mercy by now."

Hermione bit her tongue, and stood taller still. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"

Wordlessly, Voldemort drew her wand. Her slender fingers brushed the pale clusters of elderberries along the white wood. The tip trailed lazily through the air. "I think you know why. You have a proposition to make, don't you? Some ridiculous plan to get captured and make a bid for your life. I could always read your mind further, but it does grow tiresome when you pull impolite little tricks like this morning's."

"Complaining about lack of politeness doesn't strike you as mildly hypocritical?" asked Hermione archly.

The dark-haired woman gave her a look of pure loathing. "Unless you're going to be of use to me, I have a family of rats to poison."

"Leave them be," said Hermione fiercely. "I can be a spy. I'll be an asset to you, I will, I can tell you everything about the Order's plans, just leave them be."

"Arthur Weasley will give me more than I need."

"I can be a double agent. I have Kingsley's trust, the Weasleys' -"

"An informant in the Order will be redundant when half of them will be corpses by dawn."

"I can find Harry. Bring him to you."

"Would you do that?" Voldemort murmured, eyeing her carefully. "Would you save...Ginny Weasley's life, perhaps, in exchange for her brother and best friend?"

"You don't know what I'd do," said Hermione fiercely.

Voldemort shook her head once more as she raised her wand. "No, but if you knew where they were headed, that would be all the information I needed. As it is, what you're offering is far from enough."

Something on her hand glinted in the firelight. And then Hermione saw the ring. The same broken stone Dumbledore had worn on his crippled hand until his death, atop the simple gold band around the Dark witch's middle finger. Hermione raised her head and stared straight into Voldemort's eyes.

"You'd never go kill Harry or the Weasleys alone," she said slowly, letting her mouth quirk into a smile. "You're too weak."

Voldemort's stare darkened. She gave her a disdainful scowl, but Hermione could see her knuckles go white from gripping the Elder wand. "Say that again," she said softly, the wand suddenly inches from Hermione's heart.

Hermione's smile never wavered. "You have no horcruxes left. You're mortal again."

Voldemort felt her jaw clench. "That will not stop me from killing each of the Weasleys before your very eyes, rest assured."

"You're not going to do that," said Hermione simply.

"Oh?" Voldemort snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do tell how you're going to stop me."

Hermione raised her chin, and looked her straight in the eye. "You're not going to kill anyone, tonight, because I can make you a new horcrux."

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**Please R&amp;R!**


	3. Chapter 3

No major warnings for this chapter.

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**Chapter 3**

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Silence stretched out between them.

"A new horcrux?" Voldemort repeated drily. But her wand lowered. "How do you think you can accomplish that?"

"It's...well, it sounds simpler than it is," Hermione began, resisting the urge to look down from the cold dark eyes. "You've torn your soul into eight pieces - further than anyone else could dream of doing, and perhaps as far as possible as you can without becoming...er, unstable. Without risking entirely losing the bit of soul you have left. So I suspect that's why you haven't created another."

Voldemort bit her tongue irritably. Did this girl think that stalling would work, or did it really take her that long to make a point? "I'm not a patient woman, Miss Granger."

Hermione swallowed. "You can't make a new horcrux without first repairing your soul. If you could feel remorse, your soul would become whole again. A clean slate. Divide your soul as you like. Except this time you'd make different choices for your horcruxes, obviously."

The woman across from her eyed her intently, a crease forming in her brow. "Are you criticizing my decisions?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You can't exactly say it went perfectly well if we're in this situation, can you?"

Voldemort took a sip of wine, her eyes never leaving Hermione's face. Hermione didn't look away, though the other woman's stare made her skin crawl. She felt naked under those eyes, like a skinned animal about to be carved into sections. And it was all too easy to imagine the woman in front of her taking a sharp bite of raw, bleeding meat.

Catching a glimpse of that last thought in Hermione's eyes, Voldemort's mouth curved upward into a smirk. "You have a week to flesh out that flimsy theory of yours. And if you produce anything less than a concrete plan, if you disobey any order I give you or try to use your time to escape, I will know, and I will ensure that neither you nor the Weasleys survive."

Hermione stared, her confident expression slipping for a moment as she absorbed those words. "Right," she said faintly.

Voldemort gave her a dismissive wave, turning to the fireplace. "Go. Tell Rodolphus to take you back to your room."

Hermione stood still for a moment, slightly shellshocked. She had done it. She was still alive, and the Weasleys and Harry were still safe. For now. She backed away to the door, then paused. "I'll need books. For research."

The other woman gave no sign of having heard her.

Hermione bit her tongue and fumbled hurriedly with the door. It opened on Rodolphus Lestrange glaring down at her.

"She said to take me back," said Hermione levelly. Truth be told, Lestrange worried her far less now that she had survived Voldemort herself.

But Lestrange was nowhere near as subtle. As soon as she stepped into the hallway, he struck her hard, and she stumbled to the ground.

"I don't take orders from Mudbloods," he growled.

"Rodolphus," said Voldemort sharply, her voice echoing into the corridor. "Take her back. Now. We leave at midnight. Don't waste my time again."

Lestrange gritted his teeth. "Yes, my Lady."

The door shut over his words, and he turned on Hermione. She lay still on the stone, cradling her head. It felt like her entire skull was ringing, vibrating from the force of the blow. Without warning, Lestrange delivered a swift kick to her side. "Get up. I'll not let you ruin my standing in this castle."

With that, he grabbed ahold of her and swung her to her feet. Half-dragging her, he hurried down the corridor. Through the ringing in her ears, Hermione noted with satisfaction that he looked almost afraid. Although if she were honest with herself, she'd admit she was too.

* * *

Mary watched her followers gorge themselves on rich meats, shamelessly stolen from a Muggle butcher, rust-coloured juices trickling down beards and wide grins. Though the wolves and nearly half of her followers were out hunting Potter in the Forest of Dean, Hermione Granger's capture had been a success, they had found the Weasley hide-out and placed the family under house arrest, and she had shown no discontent with them, so tonight the Death Eaters celebrated. It had been a hard week, but a lucrative one, and she was wont to deny them celebration for too long. Now she eyed them closely, deep in thought. If she wanted to instruct them, it would be best to do so before food and wine blurred her meaning.

Silently, she rose, and the room fell abruptly quiet. There was a brief rush of forks and glasses being set down, then nothing. When she spoke, her soft voice carried throughout the room.

"My chosen Death Eaters," she began, her eyes travelling over each of them as she spoke, "you are my most loyal followers, and tonight you have rewarded my faith in you. Tonight, you eat like kings and queens!"

The room erupted in cheers and banging tables. She raised a hand, and they fell silent once more.

"We have, my loyal friends, a great opportunity in our midst." She raised an eyebrow. "Potter's companion, the Mudblood Granger."

Jeers and mutters were exchanged across the tables. Mary smiled. "As long as she is here, Potter and the Order will be vulnerable. Who will refuse us when a young girl's life hangs in the balance? Even the Weasleys will not dare to disobey. But there is more to her than that," she added, her voice suddenly cold. Her followers eyed her with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. "The girl is part of a greater plan. She must not suspect it, and neither should the enemy. For this reason, I will not endanger you with the details. But know this: until I order you otherwise, she is to remain unharmed. You are under no circumstance to reveal any mission or ministry plans to her, nor a single word of what I tell you in this room."

At this, she turned and began to walk away, letting her fingernails drag along the bones that made her chair. "The penalty for disobeying me, as ever, will be...severe." She let her words sink in for a moment, then smiled over her shoulder. "Enjoy your feast, and sleep well tonight. There is work ahead."

With that, she strode from the room, Wormtail hurriedly opening the door for her as she passed.

The festivities resumed, though a few remained as solemn as they had been when their Dark Queen had spoken. Amid the boisterous laughter and hooting, a few glances were cast uneasily to the door their mistress had left from, and quiet words were exchanged. "Not here," the whispers went. "Not now." And so the night wore on without incident.

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**A/N: **I have a short break from school, so I'll be updating this story as much as I can over the next few days! :')


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